Our duties were few, consisting of "setting up exercises" and perhaps a two-hour hike in the morning, and gas mask drill (a most unpleasant duty) in the afternoon. It was on one of our hikes that we discovered in a secluded spot on the mountain top an old priest's hermitage. Here in a small white stone shack lived this eccentric old man and worshipped in his peculiar way.
Huckleberries and other wild berries grew abundantly on the hillsides, and oftentimes while we were there a volunteer squad issued forth with pails, to return later with pails loaded to the brim with berries. And each evening by the candle light, with "seven-and-a-half" in vogue, we commented most favorably upon those delicious huckleberry pies, just like the ones mother used to make.
During our stay at Ventron a detail of fifteen men was sent to Kruth, 15 kilometres away, to oversee the erecting of a field hospital. From reports that came back, our men were the engineers, and were forced to do most of the work, much to their dismay.
Here also a Y. M. C. A. secretary came to our company, and through him on several occasions we were delightfully entertained. We were now able to purchase cigars, cigarettes, chocolate and other necessities of soldier life.
Bathing facilities were of the poorest—in fact, none at all, as a bathtub is a rare luxury among the French small-town people. Few of us were bold enough to brave the cold mountain stream for a plunge. After things had reached a climax, in that any time during the day a man could be seen frantically scratching himself in a dozen places at once, and singing "They Go Wild, Simply Wild Over Me," the company marched to Cornimont, the nearest town, where we were "decootized," that is, we were given a bath and all of our clothing was sterilized.
One evening at the hotel several of us ate our first "horse steak," at least we were told that it was such, and the more we thought of it the more we believed it true. After three weeks of this life, with plenty of good food, sleep, exercise and entertainment, we were eager to be back in the fray. Moving orders came, and early in August we took over our second sector of the line.
LE COLLET
August 12th, the day we left Ventron, was hot, and being crowded into a dusty truck added nothing to the enjoyment of the trip. We wound up and up the sides of the picturesque Vosges mountains, passing many an old Frenchman plodding along with his oxen and logging wagon. Once we pulled into the gutter to let a long truck train pass, going down the hill. Shortly afterwards one of our trucks, heavily loaded with litters, boxes and men, ran into a hole and came near tipping over the steep bank. After about two hours' work it was gotten out, although it had to be unloaded and reloaded. No further trouble was encountered, and we reached the top of the hill in due time. After the hustle and bustle of unloading we had supper. After supper everyone began to look for a spot to sleep, and most of the men ended the search by making beds on the grass on the hillside.
